


lightning

by truth_seeker_1789



Series: Suptober 2K19 [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bela Talbot Has Some Regrets, Bisexual Bela Talbot, Bookshop, Calm Before The Storm, Canon Compliant, Coffee Shops, Don't Have To Know About Supernatural (TV), Don't Have to Know Canon, Established Relationship, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-neutral Reader, Hellhounds, Old Friends, Platonic Relationships, Reconnecting with old friends, Suptober (Supernatural), Suptober 2019 (Supernatural), thunderstorm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 02:53:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21246293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truth_seeker_1789/pseuds/truth_seeker_1789
Summary: bela has one last goodbye to make before her time runs out. she finally finds a reason to regret her decision.





	lightning

*

She heard the first howls outside a cafe in Bethlehem.

Other customers shrugged it off to a local kennel, perhaps one of the dogs spooked by the severe thunderstorm raging just past the stained glass windows. The ambience was soon restored, bossa nova lightly playing from hidden speakers, the scents of espresso and freshly whipped cream merging together in the air around her.

She took a sip from her own drink- a herbal blend from southern Lebanon- closing her eyes as she allowed herself to soak in the atmosphere.

Warmth, citrine light soaking past her eyelids, the gentle tapping of footsteps against ancient hardwood, the near-silent thrum of electrical currents, the steady, rapid-fire rapping of the raindrops against the windowpanes.

She breathed a sigh, once more hearing a distant howl chasing fast after another flash of lightning.

Her eyes opened once more; the last had been ignored by the other patrons, some too lost in their books to even acknowledge the flicker of the lights, to notice the growing roar of the surge just outside.

There, just beyond the window, the street would be filling with water, a torrential rush of runoff rapidly making its way to the river, raising the levels and rendering her former meeting place inaccessible.

She had just one more item to pass along, one more piece to distribute.

She dared to send a text, a revision to earlier plans, carrying with it a warning to not even dare coming out into this weather.

She took another sip of her drink, making a careful study of the brilliant sun catchers hanging from the ceiling, more samplings of stained glass, each crafted by the artisan currently tending the counter. Pumpkins graced each table, serving as seasonal centrepieces on a bed of artificial leaves. Each table and its accompanying chairs boasted an appreciation for Parisian influence, yet clashed entirely with the towering bookshelves along the back wall, antiques perhaps even older than the town itself. The hardwood- she assumed walnut based on the patterns of wear-and-tear- had been shined to near-perfect reflection, catching hazy phantoms of the lights, distorted to nearly unrecognizable.

And yet despite these shortcomings, she found solace in these walls, patiently waiting for the storm to pass, for her final agreement to be made.

It had been a long ten years, rewarding and filling in ways she could not have possibly dreamed of a decade prior. Her time was coming however, the determinate memory of a fiendish howl still reverberating in her ears.

The now-familiar tinkling of the bell above the ancient oak door immediately captured her attention, hunched figure precariously sloshing inside, another flash of lightning painting the dismal world beyond the colourful windows in white.

The figure closed the door as quickly as possible, half slipping in the small puddle already forming from the limited exposure to the ferocious weather. The bell sounded once more, a soft trilling that signalled a return to normalcy for the small assembly of students, writers, and bibliophiles currently occupying the other tables.

Curiosity still claimed her, a vaguely detached interest in the soul who would dare risk their own life for a drink. She watched as they approached the small coat rack, defrocking from their soaked outer garments and preventing further dripping onto the floorboards. The removal seemed to take a significant amount of weight with it, shoulders and spine elongating into pristine posture.

At last, the figure turned around, and Bela felt her heart constrict in her chest.

Warm eyes searched the face of each patron, lingering carefully before at last meetings her own, a bright smile growing in recognition.

Your voice called out to her, reaching her long before your arms were encircling her, before she was clinging to you, words she longed to say mixing in a chaotic jumble with the excited bubbling of your own.

It had been near eleven years since she had last seen you.

She studied every inch of your features, took in the new life in your eyes, the passion as you spoke of your work and family, the familiarity of your tone as you slipped into a small debate on pop culture and politics.

For almost three hours, during the course of five drinks between you, she allowed herself to pretend that she could live in this moment forever, that the invitation you issued for Christmas dinner would be met, that she would be joining you for the Ball Drop to reign in the New Year.

Another howl, this one significantly closer, rang out from outside her temporary haven.

She felt her spirit dim, a chill settling in her bones despite the warmth that radiated from the hand holding fast to her own.

Truly, for the first time, she was regretting the deal she had made.

A lifetime of lavishness all seemed useless when held against the luxury of loyalty and unerring love.

*

**Author's Note:**

> Setting based entirely in a bookshop/cafe I visited in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania with a former friend.
> 
> Don't really have many good memories of that person in particular, but I don't let that dim my love for the places that I'm visiting. Wish I had gotten the name of that little shop; one of the most beautiful places I have ever been to.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading, and for your continued support.
> 
> Y'all give me reason to keep going.


End file.
